


Tumblr Fics

by dastardlywords



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dallas Stars, Hooker AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Merfolk AU, Royalty AU, Vampire AU, Washington Capitals, werewolves au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dastardlywords/pseuds/dastardlywords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of snapshot fics, prompt fills, and other short stories from Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Benn/Seguin, Jamie's Sad Hooker Love Story AU

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt was "Benn/Seguin Hooker AU." Wrote in two parts, noted in the fic.

-  
PART I  
-

Jamie gets dressed for morning skate quietly, never able to fully look away from Tyler. He’s beautiful sprawled out on Jamie’s bed, sleeping on his stomach with his arms wrapped around one of Jamie’s ridiculously expensive pillows. The expanse of his back and shoulders look golden and warm, twisted through with dark ink Jamie has traced with his fingertips a hundred times. Now Jamie wants to forget the game, crawl back into bed an press kisses up the sweet curve of Tyler’s spine.

In all his life, Jamie’s never wanted anything more than he wants hockey. Not until Tyler.

Now there are so many things he wants. He wants the warmth of Tyler’s body against is, the scratch of his stubble on Jamie’s cheeks, the strength of his big hands clutching at Jamie’s hips. He wants the sound of the TV and Tyler’s quiet laughter when he’s trying to sleep. He wants the lazy mornings and the sloppy blow jobs and the grumpy moe of Tyler’s mouth when he’s still half-asleep. He wants, fiercely, hopelessly, for Tyler to wake up one morning and choose Jamie the same way Jamie chooses him over and over in a thousand tiny ways every day.

It hits him like it always does — sharp, vicious, right between the ribs — when he picks his wallet up off the nightstand.

He hesitates. Jamie wonders, sometimes, what would happen if he just didn’t do this part. If he just took his wallet with him and left nothing on the nightstand… There are moments when Tyler smiles at him over breakfast or leans into him on the couch like it’s the most natural thing in the world that Jamie thinks maybe Tyler would still be there when he got home. Maybe he would still be puttering around in Jamie’s clothes when Jamie got back from the game, would still kiss him hello and tell him he really fucked up that 2-on-1 in the 3rd period. Maybe it would be like nothing changed except the one thing that really mattered.

There are times Jamie could swear Tyler looks at him like he’s the entire world.

But Jamie writes the check, like he always does, and tucks it under Tyler’s water glass the same as every morning.

He bends down to press a kiss to Tyler’s disheveled hair, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Tomorrow, he thinks, maybe he’ll be braver.

-  
PART II  
-

After the season ends, Jamie withdraws. From hockey, from Tyler, from everything.

He ignores his teammates’ texts, responds to his family only enough to keep them off his back. Part of him wants to go home – go back to Victoria and spend the summer trailing after Jordie like he did when he was a kid – but that feels too much like running away. He can’t leave without figuring out what to do about Tyler. Thinking about spending the entire summer without him makes Jamie’s stomach sink, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. Briefly he wonders if Tyler would be willing to treat him like a long-distance boyfriend over the summer, but thinking about writing that check makes him feel physically ill.

Jamie spends a couple days sulking around the apartment, slowly throwing things in boxes and generally feeling like a failure. Everything is wants is just out of his reach, taunting him. He has his dream job, but he can’t make his team win. He has his dream man, but he can’t make him stay without a fat check. It’s pathetic.

He ignores Tyler’s calls and texts, doesn’t ask him to come over even though he desperately wants to see him. Tyler acts as his confidant for most things these days, and Jamie wishes he could ask him what to do now. Even if Tyler didn’t have the answer, he would lie close and run his fingers through Jamie’s hair until he felt better.

Instead Jamie hides in his apartment, works his way through the six pack in his fridge and forgets to shave.

He’s on day four of his self-imposed house arrest when someone knocks on his front door. Jamie looks around the apartment in confusion, wondering if he ordered food and forgot about it again. Running a hand through his hair, he pulls the door open and freezes.

“Oh,” Tyler says when he opens the door, looking startled. He clearly didn’t actually expect Jamie to answer. He’s dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and a backwards baseball cap, and Jamie can‘t help but marvel at how young he looks. Usually when he visits Jamie, he dresses nicely – Jamie‘s pretty sure it’s something Tyler‘s agency requires because God knows Jamie doesn’t care – but he looks more his age now. He‘s all the more beautiful for it, Jamie thinks.

“Hey,” he greets awkwardly, suddenly aware how rumpled and awful he must look in comparison.

“Uh, hey. Can I come in?” Tyler looks uncharacteristically nervous, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Jamie stutters, stepping out of the doorway. Tyler glances around as he steps into Jamie’s living room, obviously taking in the boxes strewn haphazardly around the apartment. The plastic Jamie needs to roll out over everything lies in a heap in one corner, and his favorite suitcase is propped up next to the front door. Tyler’s gaze sticks on it for a long moment.

“You’re leaving?” he asks then quickly shakes his head. “No, I mean, of course you are. The season’s over. I just… when?”

Jamie shrugs, resisting the urge to reach out and touch Tyler now that he’s only a couple feet away. God, he missed him.

“Not sure. I haven’t bought the plane ticket yet. There’re a couple things I need to sort out here before I go,” he finally says.

Tyler nods distractedly, fiddling with something in his sweatshirt pocket. He isn’t looking directly at Jamie, which is odd, and the line of this shoulders seems tense. Now that Jamie‘s really looking, Tyler looks nothing like his normal self. He‘s stiff and nervous, mouth stuck in an unhappy slant.

“Hey,” Jamie says softly, putting a hand on Tyler’s arm before he can think better of it. “Are you okay?”

Tyler wavers visibly before taking a step forward. Jamie reaches for him on instinct, and Tyler leans into his arms with an audible exhale, resting his cheek heavily on Jamie’s shoulder. Fisting Tyler’s sweatshirt in his hands, Jamie just holds on. He has no idea what’s going on, but it hardly matters. Tyler can always have this from him.

“I quit,” Tyler finally murmurs.

Jamie goes incredibly still, and Tyler draws back, adjusting his hat.

“What?” Jamie asks, hoping he misheard.

“I quit,” Tyler repeats, sounding more sure of himself this time. “I told the agency this morning.”

“Oh,” Jamie says weakly, hoping he doensn’t sound as wretched as he feels.

Tyler quit. He quit the agency, quit his job, quit Jamie. In all his agonizing about not having Tyler the way he wanted him, it never occurred to Jamie that he might lose him altogether. No more evenings splitting takeout on the couch or sleeping curled up together. No more mornings fucking leisurely in bed or maneuvering around each other in the shower. No more of Tyler‘s wicked smile or sharp humor or easy friendship to fill Jamie’s life with warmth and noise.

Jamie forces himself to breathe normally under the weight of the loss crashing down on him.

“I wanted to let you know in person since, you know…” Tyler trails off, looking down at his hands, and Jamie genuinely doesn’t know how he meant to end that sentence: Since you were my best customer? Since I liked you best? Since I know you’re hopelessly in love with me? “I’ve saved up some money now, you know, so I’m going to go back to school. Try to figure out a real life for myself, I guess? Something I can tell my sisters about.”

“That’s great,” Jamie says honestly, even as it breaks his heart.

“Yeah, I think it’ll be good. I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Tyler admits, and Jamie tries to ignore the hurt that twists through him. “I’ve just been putting it off because… well, because I was scared, I guess.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Jamie tells him, swallowing hard. “You’ll do great. You’re so smart and capable-”

Tyler finally looks up at him then, and Jamie’s lungs lock up. He does look scared, brown eyes wide and a little wild around the edges. It’s not a look Jamie’s ever seen on Tyler’s face before, and it makes something lurch wildly inside of him. He doesn‘t ever want Tyler to look like that if he can help it.

“I’m not scared of quitting or starting over,” Tyler says in a rush. He steps further into Jamie’s space and presses something smooth into his hands without looking away from his face. “I’m not scared of any of that, Jamie. I’ve done it all before. But I can’t… I don’t to do any of that if…”

Jamie looks down at the fat envelope in his hands as Tyler trails off, turning it over and gently lifting the lip with his index finger.

Nestled inside are dozens of checks, pristine and dating back months.

“I kept thinking you would notice I wasn’t cashing them,” Tyler says softly. “Then I would have a clue about how you felt about it, I guess. But I’m done doing this the cowardly way, so… so this is me putting my cards on the table, I guess.”

Finally looking away from the checks, Jamie meets Tyler’s gaze.

“What exactly are your cards?” he asks, voice thin and needy. He feels like he can‘t breathe through the hope swelling up in his chest.

“You calling the agency is the best thing that ever happened to me,” Tyler replies without hesitation. Fear still lurks behind his eyes, but he’s all resolve and set shoulders now. He‘s brave, he’s so brave, and Jamie loves him so much. “I have no fucking clue what I’m doing with my life, but I know I want to do it with you. All of it, and in any way you’ll have me.”

Joy bursts, bright and bubbly in Jamie’s chest, and he’s knocking the hat off Tyler’s head and kissing him before he realizes what’s happening. Tyler makes a soft surprised sound before wrapping his arms around Jamie’s back, pressing close. They kiss gracelessly, all force and feeling in the place of finesse. It’s unlike any of the other kisses they’ve shared, nothing secret between them to hold back. Jamie lets every bit of what he feels pour through him into the desperate press of his mouth and needy curl of his fingers in Tyler’s hair, and Tyler kisses back with equal fervor.

Jamie wants to give him so much, wants to give him everything, but he isn’t nearly as good at speech-making as Tyler. He can rarely find the right words when he needs them, but thankfully this time he only needs few.

“I’m really fucking in love with you,” he murmurs against Tyler’s mouth, reveling in the way he can feel him smile brilliantly in response. He never thought, in a million years, he would get this lucky.

“Good,” Tyler replies, kissing him again. “That's good. Me too, and I want to do this right, okay? Let me take you to dinner after you fuck me on the couch.”

“You couldn’t afford me,” Jamie pants into his mouth, laughing when Tyler punches him in the arm.

In the process of stumbling over the the couch, the fat envelope gets kicked under the coffee table, totally forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to drop by and say hello/leave a prompt/read the stuff too silly to make it over here at my [Tumblr](http://dastardlywords.tumblr.com/). :)


	2. Benn/Seguin, Merfolk AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was "Benn/Seguin, Merfolk or other aquatic mythical creatures AU."

The mast creaks and sways in the storm as Jamie dumps the kitchen refuse over the side of the ship. Most of the sailors are already back manning their posts to try to steady the ship through the choppy seas, and the least Jamie can do is make sure the kitchen is taken care of. A cook is only so much good in a storm.

The rain beats on him as he shakes the last corn cob out of his pail, and he’s about ready to turn around when the boat pitches violently to the side.

“Jamie!” he hears Jordie shout from a distance and the world slows to a crawl.

Vaguely, Jamie’s aware of the fact he’s toppling over the side of of the ship. Instead of thinking about that, though, he wonders who’s going to take care of his kitchen. None of the other sailors can cook to save their lives, and they just picked up a great batch of peppers that are going to go bad in the next few days if they aren’t dried. He wonders if Jordie will be okay on the ship without him. He wonders which of the snot-nosed brats they picked up at the last port will get his bunk.

Then his head hits something and he doesn’t think anything at all.

-

“You’ve better wake up soon. This is as far as I can drag your heavy ass, and I didn’t pull you all the way here so you could die on the beach…”

The first thing Jamie is aware of is how bright red it is behind his eyelids. It’s so vibrant and run through with dark veins branching out in every direction.

“You’re lucky you’re cute or I would have let you drown miles ago.”

Pain is the next thing to work it’s way through the fog — Jamie’s head throbs and every bit of him feels tight and prickly — followed quickly by the realization that someone has and arm wound around his waist as they drag him through the water.

“Whu-” he tries but seawater immediately fills his mouth. The arm around his waist hikes him up further out of the water as he coughs.

“You humans are so poorly made, I swear,” a man’s voice mutters in his ear. “Here.”

He’s pushed forward until his knees hit what feels like sand. Scrambling instinctively, Jamie crawls weakly out of the shallows, coughing up water as he goes. Flopping heavily on his side once he’s mostly out of the water, he blinks slowly, eyes trying to adjust to the harsh sun.

“Once you’re done trying not to die, a thank you would be nice.”

Jamie blinks in the direction of the man’s voice, still coughing weakly. Reaching up, he swipes at his eyes, not understanding what he’s seeing.

Lounging in the shallows a few feet away sits the most beautiful man Jamie’s ever seen. Naked from the waist-up, his skin gleams golden in the sun save the places where strange, vibrant markings run up his arms and spill onto his chest. Coppery-brown hair waves across his forehead, crowning off a face composed of elegant, sloping angles like the Grecian statues Jamie’s seen in museums. The beautiful man’s mouth twists into a smirk, eyebrow quirking as he meets Jamie’s appreciative gaze.

“You’re welcome,” he says, even though Jamie is pretty sure he hasn’t actually managed to say anything yet.

“Uh,” he finally manages. “You…”

“Saved your ass, yeah.”

“That…”

Whatever Jamie means to say gets stuck in his throat when the man in the shallows moves and Jamie gets a glimpse jewel-green scales shifting beneath the water’s surface.

He’s a siren, Jamie realizes abruptly. It’s an old sailor’s tale Jordie used to scare him with when they were kids begging their way onto ships to clean the deck and eat scraps from the kitchen. The stories varied, but there were always beautiful women with fish tails who lured lonely sailors to their doom. The stories never mentioned male sirens, but Jamie supposed the stories wouldn’t account for men with Jamie’s tastes. Such things were not worth discussing.

Regardless, it never occurred to Jamie that the stories could be real.

“Hey, I know I’m not bad to look at and all, but the bug-eyed thing is just bad manners,” the siren snaps, and Jamie’s mouth clicks closed.

“Oh, s-sorry!” he says, painfully aware he’s been staring like an idiot at something that’s probably here to kill him. “Sorry.”

The siren rolls his eyes which seems a little mundane for a mythical creature, really.

“Happens all the time,” he says dismissively. “Anyway, I’m Tyler. Who are you?”

Again, Jamie would have expected a siren to have a more impressive name than “Tyler” but this whole experience is so surreal at this point, he doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

“Jamie Benn,” he replies reflexively. “Nice to meet you.”

Tyler laughs. It’s a nice sound.

“Nice to meet you too, Jamie Benn. Sorry about your boat. By the time I found you, it was too far gone for me to catch up, so… sorry. But, hey, you’re not dead, so that’s something.”

All at once Jamie remembers his situation, sitting up so quickly his head pounds angrily. He fell overboard. Poor Jordie must be worried sick. How was Jamie ever going to get back to him? He glances around himself for the first time and takes stock of the island Tyler brought him too. There are trees and plants, which is a good sign for his immediate survival, but it could be one of thousands of tiny islands in the Caribbean.

Jamie’s heart starts to pound.

He’s stuck on a tiny, nondescript island in the middle of the ocean with a mythological creature that is probably going to suck his soul out of his eyeballs or something. Oh God, he probably would have been better of drowning. How was he supposed-

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop freaking out,” Tyler says loudly, pulling himself towards Jamie with his strong arms. His tail crests the water, green and sparkling like a thousand gemstones where the sun hits it, and Jamie can’t help but stare, transfixed. “Ships come by this island a lot to drop off that poison water you humans are so fond of. There’s a stash of it buried on the other side of the beach, I’ve seen it. That’s why I brought you here. They’ll come, and you can go with them, okay?”

Jamie stares wordlessly at Tyler, heart still pounding. Tyler doesn’t look like he’s planning on eating his soul or anything. He just looks beautiful and, if anything, a little sad.

“Why did you save me?” Jamie asks quietly. Logically it’s not the most pressing question, but it feels important.

Tyler looks down and shrugs, almost bashful.

“It was the decent thing to do, wasn’t it?” he asks, quizzical like he honestly doesn’t know. “And besides it’s… boring out here with just me.”

Not sad, Jamie realizes. Lonely.

Suddenly Jamie isn’t scared. He knows he’s still in trouble — he needs to find water and food and shelter and hope Tyler isn’t wrong about the rum runners coming back for their stash — but fate pulled a lot of strings to land him here on this beach with the remarkable creature. He can’t shake the bone-deep feeling that he was supposed to meet Tyler, that somehow their stories are twined together by more than circumstance. It’s strangely reassuring.

“Well, thanks,” Jamie finally says, reaching out to touch Tyler’s shoulder shyly. His skin feels human beneath Jamie’s fingers. Tyler jerks in surprise, but when he looks up, he looks delighted.

“No problem,” he mutters. “You were too pretty to let the fish eat you.”

Jamie can feel himself blushing, but he doesn’t think anyone could blame him.

When Tyler smiles, it’s the morning sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to drop by and say hello/leave a prompt/read the stuff too silly to make it over here at my [Tumblr](http://dastardlywords.tumblr.com/). :)


	3. Wilson/Latta, Bodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was "Willy/Latts, exploring each other's bodies.

In every conceivable way, Mike is different. Tom never had a type with women – tall, short, willowy, curvy, blond, brunette or redhead, it never really mattered to him so long as they were hot – but Mike’s totally new. His body feels compact and powerful beneath Tom’s, thickly muscled and somehow perpetually sunkissed. Mike leans back on his elbows, comfortably bracketed by Tom’s long limbs and apparently content to let him look his fill. Of everything, nudity between them is familiar, at least.

“You’re…”Tom trails off. He wants to say beautiful but he doesn’t think Mike would appreciate it. It’s not the right word anyway. Mike isn’t delicate, isn’t elegantly put together or made of particularly striking parts. His brow tends to furrow and his mouth is prone to scowling, giving him the air of a petulant bulldog more than anything else. Tracing his thumb over Mike’s scarred chin, Tom finds himself hopelessly fond of every ridiculous inch of him.

Mike runs his palm up the length of Tom’s arm, tangling his fingers in the hair at the base of his neck.

“I’m what?” he asks, mouth curling. His eyes crease fondly, upturned nose crinkling at the bridge.

Tom leans down and nudges his mouth up for a slow, deep kiss. This is all still new, but kissing Mike is quickly becoming Tom’s favorite activity. Strong fingers curl in his hair, pulling painfully as their tongues slide together. Mike kisses like he does everything: rough and passionate and brimming with wild energy. Tom’s kissed a lot of people, but no one like Mike. No one who clutched at him so hard or bit his lips until they stung. No one who seemed to want to devour him whole.

Mike breaks for air, and Tom whines, chasing after his mouth thoughtlessly. They both gasp when the movement presses them together from knee to shoulder, skin suddenly pressed against skin seemingly everywhere. Mike grabs for the meat of Tom’s hip, holding him close.

“You’re fucking amazing,” Tom gasps against Mike’s jaw. It’s not what he wants to say, not even close, but Mike grinds their hips together and Tom can’t think straight anymore.

Winding his arms around Tom’s back, Mike turns his head to breathe warmly against his ear. His breath is loud and uneven, lips ghosting against the shell of Tom’s ear.

“Come on,” he pants.

This is all new to Tom. It’s all different and significant in a way he doesn’t know how to deal with yet. It’s all also, without qualification, the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Tom promises nonsensically, willing to give Mike anything at this point. “I’ve got you.”


	4. Benn/Seguin, Werewolves AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt was "Benn/Seguin, werewolves, some alpha on another team tries to make Tyler submit to him, but Jamie steps in and nearly rips the other alpha's head off."

Tyler submitting is stipulated by management when they make the trade.

Jamie agrees readily enough — there aren’t many alphas in the league, and he doesn’t mind playing that role for teammates who don’t have packs of their own — but he worries that Tyler has little choice in the matter. When it happens, though, Tyler seems totally nonplussed. He bares his throat casually, letting Jamie scent him as long as he likes then butting his head affectionately against his chin once before clapping him on the shoulder and asking if he wants to get sushi.

It’s fine for a long time after that. Tyler isn’t nearly the mess Jamie had been lead to believe, and Jamie likes the way Tyler’s easy with his physical affection. It calms him when Tyler leans against him on the plane after a bad game or curls up next to him on the couch during the full moon. It’s not the way any of the other guys are, but it’s easy, uncomplicated.

That’s why the game against Anaheim is such a disaster.

Jamie’s chasing the puck behind the net when the hair on the back if his neck stands up. He can tell Getzlaf is on the ice — the smell of another alpha always makes him feel itchy inside — but it isn’t until he rounds the net that he realizes the other alpha has Tyler pinned up against the boards with his hip. It’s subtle, as interference goes, but something about the way he’s looming over Tyler, stick shaft pressing into his back makes Jamie see red.

He doesn’t really remember what happens after that. There’s white noise in his ears, the bite of his knuckles hitting something hard, the bone-deep certainty that he has to destroy the threat. Vaguely, he recalls the roar of the crowd, a flash of Tyler’s eyes gone wide, the long walk down the tunnel.

Next thing he knows, he’s sitting on the trainer’s table, two bags of ice wrapped around his knuckles and a numb feeling stretching across parts of his face. Something must have needed stitched up. The trainer’s already gone, and the television is on in the corner, showing the Ducks up 2-1 as the second period expires.

Jamie’s still piecing things together when Tyler comes barging in a few minutes later, still mostly in his gear.

“Are you okay?” he asks, dumping his helmet on the floor and stalking over to where Jamie’s sitting. His eyes look wild, scared.

“Yeah, totally fine,” Jamie slurs, surprised to find the inside of his mouth cut and swollen. Apparently that’s numbed too.

“Fuck,” Tyler curses, pushing to stand between Jamie’s knees and pressing his forehead against Jamie’s neck. “Are you out of your mind? What were you fucking thinking?”

Jamie wants to pet him but can’t with the ice packs strapped to his hands. He nuzzles his hair with his nose instead, inhaling deeply.

“What were you thinking, Jamie?” Tyler asks again, voice small, and Jamie wraps him up in his arms, careful not to let the ice drip on his back. Tyler leans heavily into the hug, pushing up into Jamie’s nuzzling like he needs it.

No one else should ever be allowed to touch him like this. He’s Jamie’s — every fiber of Jamie’s being screams with certainty of it.

“Sorry,” Jamie murmurs, ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest. He still doesn’t remember exactly what happened, but he’s got a pretty good guess.

Tyler takes a deep breath and seems to get a handle on himself, straightening up and letting go of Jamie. He looks less wild-eyed now, more like himself.

“You don’t get to do that, okay?” he says fiercely. “You don’t get to get in fights for me. That’s not what I signed up for with this pack business. I don’t want it, not ever.”

He’s serious. Jamie knows the steely look on his face well; it’s the same one that he wore the first time he looked Jamie dead in the eyes and said let’s prove them wrong. That look is part of the reason Jamie’s in this mess now, he suspects.

“Okay,” Jamie agrees, knowing even as he says it that it’s a lie. He’ll break his knuckles on the jaw of anyone who threatens Tyler, wolf or otherwise, for as long as he lives. If the threat is big enough and the moon is close enough to full, he’ll rip their throats out with his teeth.

Jamie never understood why some people were afraid of alphas until that precise moment.

Tyler nods, seemingly accepting his word at face value — Jamie’s never lied to him before, so he has no reason to doubt him — and guilt gnaws at Jamie’s throat. Still, he says nothing.

“Good. Good, okay,” Tyler says, taking another deep breath and squeezing Jamie’s knee. “I’ve got to go get a couple goals, eh? Get all patched up. I’ll see you after the game.”

“Alright,” Jamie agrees quietly, watching him go.

Something inside him whimpers — something needy and animal that insists that Tyler is his and should never be out of his sight — and the human part of Jamie braces for heartbreak.

There is no way this ends well.


	5. Ovechkin/Backstrom, Post Game 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt from kink meme was "Ovechkin/Backstrom, post-game 7 hurt/comfort." Worth noting that many of the things Nicklas references here (being trapped with Ovi in a thunderstorm, his summer trips to Sweden, etc.) are things that actually happened. :)

Nicklas sits in his locker after the final horn and thinks about thunderstorms.

His first summer in DC, Alex took him on a tour of the city. He was a terrible tour guide, leading them aimlessly through the busy downtown streets, laughing through obviously made-up historical facts and bumping into Nicklas’s shoulder every few steps. DC was so different than Gavle – loud and busy and too far from the ocean – but walking next to Alex, it didn’t feel so far from home.

The storm snuck up on them like nothing Nicklas had ever seen. One second it was bright and muggy and the next Alex was hauling him under a hotel overhang, rain pounding down around them. Thunder rumbled in the distance as Alex pushed his damp hair out of his face, laughing and draping his arm around Nicklas’s shoulders. Up close, Alex proved strangely difficult to look away from. His face was made of sharp, unforgiving angles, eyes shocking blue and mouth pulled into a wild grin. Nicklas was protective of his personal space, but moving away from Alex at that moment felt impossible. Instead he tucked himself against Alex’s side, watching the storm rage outside the overhang.

Eight years later, Nicklas looks across the locker room and remembers the weight of Alex’s arm around his shoulders and the smell of electricity in the air. Alex sits hunched in his stall now, surrounded by a horde of reporters and mumbling his way through answers Nicklas doesn’t need to hear.

Their relationship is different now. Nicklas hasn’t been that lost teenager for years. He doesn’t need Alex like he used to, and Alex’s busy, complicated life keeps him at arms-length from them all at times. Alex used to visit him in Sweden over the summers, but now they’ll go months on end without much more than a text message between them.

But for some reason, Nicklas looks at him tonight and remembers the smell of rain.

When the team files out, Nicklas politely excuses himself from a conversation with Ward and cuts ahead of Wilson and Latta in the hallway. When they file onto the bus, he takes the seat next to Alex in the back, shrugging apologetically at Evgeny when he catches his eye. The rookie looks wilted, but he still musters a small, understanding smile in return and goes to sit with Marcus.

Alex looks up when he notices his new seatmate and tilts his head curiously.

“You’re alright, Becky?” he asks, patting Nicklas’s leg with one of his big hands. His voice is rough and pitched low, uncharacteristic of him in every way. “You played great tonight, you know.“

Nicklas doesn’t know what he intended to say when he sat next to Alex. All he knows is that he desperately wants to make him look less heavy-hearted. He and Alex haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but he’s always believed in the warmth and energy in Alex’s heart. Seeing him tired and sad tears at something fundamental in Nicklas. It hurts worse than the loss itself in some ways.

Instead of responding, Nicklas shifts down in his seat and rests his temple lightly on Alex’s shoulder. It’s uncharacteristic of him, without question. Nicklas doesn’t need to be cared for anymore, but he thinks, maybe, Alex needs his little blond rookie tonight.

After a long pause, Alex rests his chin on top of Nicklas’s head.

“We’ll do better next year,” Alex declares quietly. Nicklas thinks under the sadness he can hear the steel at Alex Ovechkin’s core, unshakable even after everything he’s shouldered.

A smile tugs on Nicklas’s lips.

“Next year,” he promises, soft but fierce.

They slump together in the back of the bus, together still through everything, and Alex’s heartbeat roars like thunder in Nicklas’s ears.


	6. Benn/Seguin, is it worth it (let me work it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one was unprompted post-Superbowl ridiculousness. Premise was "Tyler can dance and Jamie has a lot of feelings about it."

Tyler can dance.

It shouldn’t be an issue for Jamie, but he can’t help but watch him sometimes when they’re out. Tyler’s body is a thing of beauty, especially in motion. The dirty grind of his hips makes the muscles in his chest and back flex and move beneath his skin, and Jamie can’t help but be transfixed. Spirals of ink stand out on Tyler’s arms when he moves them above his head, and all Jamie can think about is running his palms down the entire lean length of him.

It’s not a big deal at first – Tyler’s always dancing with some impossibly hot girl he’ll disappear with later, a constant reminder of all the ways he’s off limits to Jamie – but as Jamie gets to know Tyler better, the situation becomes more complicated. It’s one thing to appreciate an objectively beautiful sight when it’s laid out in front of him; it’s another thing entirely to look at Tyler dancing with some random girl and feel like his heart's turning to lead in his chest. The want he feels when he looks at Tyler sometimes is vicious, clawing at him from the ribcage out. Tyler dances across some grimly club, and Jamie watches him over the rim of his beer, consumed with thoughts of how gorgeous he is, how loyal, how passionate.

Sometimes he wonders what Tyler would do if he pressed up behind him while he was dancing, grabbed his hip hard and held him close. Would Tyler flash one of his wicked smiles over his shoulder, unwilling to back down as he swayed to the music? Would he slip away, awkward and uncomfortable? Would he lean back into Jamie like he knew that was where he belonged all along?

Jamie doesn’t know and isn’t willing to risk their friendship to find out, so he never tries. Instead, he finishes off his beer and either goes home or tries to find a willing guy or girl to take his mind off what he can’t have.

This works right up until it doesn’t.

Half of the team is piled in Tyler’s living room for the Super Bowl when Jamie ducks into the kitchen to grab another beer. He’s pleasantly buzzed already, relaxed and cheerful as he pulls a microbrew from the crisper. The music suddenly increases in volume from the other room, and Jamie can hear Tyler’s familiar laugh as he wanders into the room.

“Beer?” Jamie asks, holding one up over his shoulder and glancing back towards Tyler.

“Fuck yeah,” Tyler replies, shimmying cheerfully in his sock feet. Fondness hits Jamie right in the stomach as he turns back to close the fridge. “I forgot how great this song is!”

Tyler bobs his head and shakes his shoulders a little to the beat as he wanders over to grab the bottle opener, smile wide on his face. Jamie watches him with what he suspects is a hopelessly charmed look on his face. The goofy little jig Tyler’s doing around his kitchen isn’t remotely sexy – he seems to be making little effort to keep rhythm and his movements are jerky and almost childish – but Jamie still can’t bring himself to look away. Sexy or not, he still wishes this were his to have.

“To Missy,” Tyler toasts as he hands Jamie’s uncapped bottle back to him. Jamie clinks their bottles together obediently before taking a sip.

“To Missy,” he agrees.

“I remember dancing to this song when I was in juniors,” Tyler tells him, mouth falling into a slight smirk. “Sadly my moves weren’t quite as good back then. Scared some girls off, I think.”

Jamie smiles at the mental image. He’s seen pictures of Tyler as a floppy-haired teenager; he can imagine.

“You were probably still better than I am now,” he laughs. Dancing in public always embarrassed Jamie a bit too much to do it sober. As a chubby teenager it was a complete nonstarter.

“Oh, that’s bullshit. You’re just a chicken,” Tyler teases astutely, setting his beer aside and reaching his hands out. It takes Jamie a second to realize what he wants.

“Oh come on-” he starts, but Tyler plucks his beer out of his hands before he can protest further. Before Jamie knows what’s happening, Tyler's tugging him towards the middle of the kitchen, bouncing along to the song blaring out of the living room. ”Tyler-”

“Oh, come on,” Tyler laughs, shimmying his hips and turning himself with Jamie’s hands. “The key is to stop worrying about what you look like.”

Jamie opens his mouth to protest, skidding along the stone floor in his socks, but then Tyler’s pressing close, draping his arms over Jamie’s shoulders. The words die on Jamie’s tongue, every evening he’s spent watching Tyler across some crowded club coming back to him in a rush. Now Tyler’s watching him, warm brown eyes full of humor and fondness, and the embarrassment kind of just drains out of Jamie in one big rush. A surge of warmth radiates out from his chest to replace it, smile spilling across his face.

Jamie awkwardly sways with Tyler, hands settling on his back. He has no clue what he’s doing. Tyler’s smiling wider now, though, and Jamie couldn’t care less if he looks like a complete moron.

“There you go,” Tyler says, and Jamie could swear he presses in even closer. He can feel the warmth of him along his front now, body swaying close. Tyler seems to hesitate for a second, licking his lower lip. “Now just imagine you’re going to do things to me later and you what me to know about it.”

Tyler’s voice is soft and husky, and Jamie’s mouth goes dry. He tries to catch Tyler’s gaze, uncertain what he’s playing at, but Tyler’s looking stubbornly over his shoulder.

Swallowing, Jamie scrounges up his courage and splays his hands out low on Tyler’s back. He squeezes the strong muscles there slightly, leaning in so his mouth his hovering a few inches away from Tyler’s ear.

“What kind of things?” he asks quietly.

If this is a game Tyler’s playing with him, it’s a cruel one. Still, Jamie’s never one to back down from a challenge, especially when there is something he desperately wants on the line.

Tyler tightens his arms around Jamie’s neck slightly, hips bumping against Jamie’s fleetingly as they sway together.

“All fucking kinds of things,” he replies. “Anything you could think of.”

Jamie can think of a lot of things. From the way Tyler’s hands are clutching a little at his shoulders, he thinks maybe he can too. A surge of lust hits Jamie low in the stomach, followed quickly by something huge and hopeful and terrifying.

“Okay, let me try this, then,” Jamie manages, using his hands to reel Tyler in and grind their hips together to the music. Tyler breathes out a small, choked-off moan into his shoulder and Jamie feels an rush of triumph. He wants to crush Tyler to him, kiss him, drop to his knees for him, but he can’t do any of that with their teammates in the next room. Instead the promise has to be enough. To get the point across, he lets his fingertips slip under the waistband of Tyler’s jeans, pressing lightly into the dimples above his ass.

“Yeah,” Tyler groans quietly.

“How am I doing?” Jamie murmurs in his ear. “Can you imagine all the things I could do to you?”

Tyler leans back just enough to catch Jamie’s eyes, pupils blown huge and black. He’s pink across the bridge of his nose, mouth parted, and Jamie wants _wreck_ him.

“I-”

“Hurry up, you assholes, the game is on!” Fids yells from the next room over, and Jamie jumps back so fast he nearly crashes into the kitchen island. Tyler looks equally frazzled, smoothing his hair down and looking over his shoulder.

“We’re coming, hold your fucking horses,” he calls back.

Jamie looks at him with wide eyes, suddenly aware of the reality of their situation. With Tyler’s arms wrapped around his neck, it all seemed a little surreal. Now he’s starkly aware of the fact that he was nearly ready to blow Tyler on his kitchen floor. That would be bad for his knees, he things a little insanely.

Tyler glances back, expression unreadable. He seems to hesitate for a second, licking his lips again, then steps around Jamie to grab his beer. As he brushes past, he ducks his head to speak directly into Jamie’s year.

“I don’t have a very vivid imagination. I’d rather you show me,” he says before slipping around Jamie and disappearing back into the living room.

Jamie stands there, momentarily dumbfounded.

Slowly, a smile pulls across his mouth, delighted and a little wicked. He grabs his beer of the counter and wanders back into the living room to pretend to pay attention to the game for the next few hours.

He has some planning to do.


	7. Benn/Seguin, Royalty AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orignal prompt was "Benn/Seguin, royalty AU"

“How do I look?”

Jamie looks up from his phone, breath leaving him in a rush.

Tyler stands in the doorway, tugging on the bottom of his handsome red wool coat. He’s all decked out in his royal finery, ceremonial sword strapped to his hip and hair tamed into shiny chestnut waves. Every inch of him is shined, pressed or gelled to perfection, nothing at all like his normal, easy-going self.

He looks every inch a future king.

“You look like a pretentious douche, your highness,” Jamie tells him with mock seriousness.

Tyler gives him an unamused look.

“Don’t your highness me, Jamie Randolph Benn,” he scolds, fussing with the medals pinned to his lapel. Jamie steps close, pushing his hands away to straighten the pins himself.

Standing close to Tyler still makes his heart flutter like a teenager. The first time Jamie laid eyes on the crown prince in person, he remembers being struck by how skinny he was. Tyler was only seventeen at the time, all bravado and big ears, and Jamie’s pretty sure he loved him the moment he laid eyes on him.

“We have to be careful,” Jamie reminds him as he smooths down his lapels. “If you’re too familiar with the staff-”

“The staff?” Tyler repeats incredulously.

“Yes, and if anyone heard me address you disrespectfully-”

Tyler steps back, placing both hands firmly on Jamie’s shoulders.

“Stop,” he says firmly. “If you want to avoid rocking the boat in public, fine, but in private we’re normal people, okay? We’re friends.”

The stubborn slant of Tyler’ jaw is so familiar, brown eyes warm and certain, and Jamie knows this isn’t an argument he’s going to win.

He wonders sometimes if his life would be easier if Tyler turned out to be the spoiled brat he’d been expecting when he was assigned to guard duty here. He would spend a lot less time wishing for things he can never have, that’s for sure. Still, he tries to imagine his life without Tyler‘s constant presence, and he feels hollow. Life would be dull without Tyler‘s easy laughter, boring without his wicked grin. Loving him is a relentless ache, but Jamie knows he wouldn’t change him for the world.

It should be scary, but instead it makes Jamie feel certain.

“As you wish, your highness,” he finally replies drolly, grinning when Tyler punches him in the shoulder.

“You’re an ass,” Tyler says, rolling his eyes. “Come on, before you make me late and the papers decide I’m back here snorting blow or something."

Jamie checks the gun at this hip then takes a quick glance around the room to make sure everything looks secure. When he glances up, Tyler’s waiting for him at the door, smiling over his shoulder.

He’s still all decked out in his royal finery, every inch of him shined, pressed or gelled to perfection, but the curl of his lips feels private, meant only for Jamie. Jamie stamps down viciously on the tiny spark of hope in his chest and smiles through it.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he promises.

Tyler smiles faintly before setting off down the hallway towards where the world awaits him.

Jamie takes a deep, pained breath then follows.


	8. Benn/Seguin, mercy i know (vampire AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original summary was "So during my flu-mandated house arrest, I rewatched a bunch of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. As a result, here’s 1.7k of very silly vampire!Jamie because it’s the only thing I’ve been able to write in the past couple of weeks. Sorry?"

Jamie doesn’t get sick. He _barely_ gets hurt. He’ll nick his lip during the first period and be completely healed by the time they board the bus to head home.

It’s not that Tyler ignored the vampire biology lectures in school or the orientation when he got into the league. Logically he knows Jamie has vulnerabilities just like everyone else – sunlight and pointy wooden objects to start – but it’s easy to forget in the face of how tough he is by human standards. Somewhere along the line, Tyler starts to think of Jamie as invincible.

In the end, it’s a batch of bad blood that does it. Jamie doesn’t let anyone see him feed, doesn’t even like to talk about it, so Tyler doesn’t think anything of him disappearing into the guest room with a thermos one night when they’re hanging on the couch. He’s used to it. Tyler knows the team provides Jamie with donated human blood so he doesn’t have to subsist on pigs blood or the synthetic stuff. It’s supposed to be heavily regulated, it's _supposed_ to be safe, so it takes Tyler a while to start to worry when Jamie doesn’t come right back out.

Finally he gives in to his concern and tentatively taps on the closed door. He doesn‘t want to butt in on something Jamie obviously doesn‘t want him involved in, but it‘s been almost half an hour.

“Everything alright?” he asks. There’s a long silence followed by a faint groan. Tyler’s heart skips a beat, and he pushes the door open before he can talk himself out of it. “Jamie?”

Jamie’s slumped against the foot of the bed, upper body hunched over his knees and hair falling in front of his face. He’s shaking visibly, hands clawing frantically at his knees.

“Jamie!” Tyler shouts, skidding to his knees in front of him. When Jamie doesn’t look up, Tyler reaches out to push his hair out of his face, and Jamie flinches hard. His head snaps up, and Tyler’s heart lurches in his chest. Jamie’s dark eyes look wide and pained, mouth stained red and fangs visible when he pants for air he doesn’t need. Tyler’s never seen him fanged-out before, but he barely notices it beneath the pain written all over his face. “Fuck. What happened? Are you okay?”

“Don’t… don’t know,” Jamie pants, blinking hard.

Tyler pets his hair out of his sweaty face helplessly. He‘s cool and clammy to the touch.

“What do you need? Should I call someone?”

Jamie curls in on himself and groans faintly, muscles visibly spasming beneath his skin.

“Fuck, okay, hold on. Hold on, hold on,” Tyler mumbles, digging his phone out of his pants and jamming the button to call the team doctor. He strokes Jamie’s neck with his free hand, wishing there were something more he could do. The doctor picks up and Tyler barely knows what he’s saying as he tries to explain what’s going on. All he knows is Jamie’s in pain and he has to do something about it.

“Was he feeding?” the doctor asks when Tyler‘s done babbling.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, that’s good. It’s probably just a reaction to a bad batch of blood. He’ll need to feed properly to flush it out of his system.”

Jamie shudders and moans faintly, and Tyler doesn’t think this is _just_ anything. Still, he’s glad there‘s an easy solution.

“Jamie,” he asks, shaking his shoulder gently. “Did you bring any more blood?”

Jamie shakes his head and Tyler’s heart sinks.

“Based on the severity of the reaction you described, he’ll need to feed soon,” the doctor warns in his ear.

“Or what?” Tyler asks.

The silence that follows is so loaded, Tyler hangs up before the doctor can clarify the obvious. Fumbling with his phone, he shoots an SOS to Jordie to bring blood before throwing his phone aside. He’s not going to wait. Risking Jamie that way… it’s unacceptable. If something ever happened to him... it would just crush Tyler.

“Jamie. Jamie, look at me,” Tyler says, scooting forward on his knees. He cradles Jamie’s face in both hands, forcing him to look up. Jamie looks dazed, mouth hanging open and eyes a little unfocused. There’s a spot of blood on the corner of his mouth, stark against the paleness of the rest of him. Tyler thumbs at it gently. “You need to feed, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jamie groans softly, eyes going hungry. “I need…”

“I know,” Tyler agrees, scooting between Jamie’s knees. Taking a deep breath, he tilts his head to the side invitingly. “So drink from me.”

Jamie’s pupils dilate visibly before he flinches away.

“No,“ he snaps, pushing at Tyler’s chest with a shaky hand.

Tyler feels slightly hurt by his vehemence. He knows feeding from a live person is either an act of great aggression or great trust, but there are extenuating circumstances here. And even if there weren’t… Tyler trusts Jamie down to his bone marrow. He wishes Jamie felt the same.

“You have to, okay?” Tyler says instead, scrambling forward and trying to bare his throat temptingly. “You need it, and I’ll be fine. I trust you.”

Jamie’s eyes lock on Tyler’s pulse and get stuck there. He’s gone even paler, lips chapped and dry where they’re not covered in blood. He should look monstrous – fangs flashing dangerously between his parted lips – but he doesn’t. Not to Tyler, anyway. He just looks like Jamie in pain, and Tyler needs to make it better.

“I won’t,” Jamie pants, sounding less certain. “I won’t hurt you.”

Tangling his fingers in the hair at the base of Jamie’s neck, Tyler inches closer.

“You won’t hurt me,” Tyler agrees. “You’ll only take what you need.”

Jamie keeps shaking his head even as his hands come up to cradle Tyler’s back, holding him close. It’s hard to resist the urge to arch into his touch. Tyler has to remind himself that that is not what this is about.

“I never wanted-” Jamie starts before breaking off into a wheeze of pain. He leans in to nose gently at the line of Tyler‘s neck.“Never wanted you to see… see me like…”

“See you like what?” Tyler asks, tilting his jaw as his heart hammers in his chest. He can feel how much Jamie needs this, how desperately his hands grasp at his back, and he wants to give it to him.

“A monster,” Jamie replies quietly, lips brushing against Tyler’s skin.

Tyler freezes. Fangs aside, Jamie’s the furthest thing from a monster he knows. He’s kind and warm and hopelessly dorky; he loves his family more than anything and his friends nearly as much. When Tyler arrived from Boston, lost and confused, Jamie accepted him without question. Tyler’s never seen someone get so excited over simple little things like new baseball caps or a friend bringing them Starbucks in the morning.

No amount of bloodsucking or fangs could make Tyler see Jamie as anything other than one of his favorite people in the entire world.

Overwhelmed and unsure how to articulate any of that, Tyler rests his cheek on Jamie’s hair and closes his eyes.

“I could never,” Tyler promises fiercely. “You hear me? Never.”

Tightening his grasp on Jamie’s hair, Tyler tugs him hard against his throat.

“Now do it. Please, Jamie. I’ve thought about it before, you know. About… about being that close to you. About you wanting it from me. I want it. I want-“

An animal noise tears from Jamie’s throat, and Tyler gasps as pain bursts from his neck, hot and sharp. Jamie’s arms tighten around him as he drinks in desperate gulps, crushing Tyler to his chest. Tyler goes boneless, gasping quietly. It’s painful, but he can’t bring himself t care. He’s too consumed by the way Jamie clings to him, by how greedy he is for what Tyler’s offering. Slumping against him, Tyler just lets him take. He has nothing he wouldn’t willingly give.

Jamie drinks like he’s starved, pleased little groans escaping his chest as he burrows harder into Tyler’s neck. He holds Tyler like he’s precious, and Tyler closes his eyes blissfully. Things start to go a little fuzzy around the edges, but it’s okay. He’s not scared. If anything, he might be a little turned on.

Tyler’s not sure he wants to know what that says about him.

Jamie breaks away from him with a wet gasp, licking messily at the wound on his neck.

“Sorry, oh God, sorry,” he gasps.

“S’okay,” Tyler slurs. He tries to pet Jamie’s hair reassuringly and ends up swatting him in the head instead.

Jamie’s frantic licking devolves into gentle kisses and Tyler hums happily. Yes. This.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Jamie mumbles over and over, nuzzling his neck between kisses. He sounds a little heartbroken, and that won’t do.

“Jamie,” Tyler whispers, fumbling to hold his face in both hands. He tilts Jamie’s chin up to look at him and smiles. Jamie’s eyes are huge and wet and his entire lower face is smeared red with blood. He’s beautiful.

Everything still feels fuzzy and distant, so Tyler just lets himself lean down and kiss him. Jamie’s lips are plush and wet, and he tastes like vivid copper when he gasps against Tyler’s mouth. When he kisses back, it’s visceral.

It’s blood.


	9. Benn/Seguin, Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Started this as a coda to Something Worth Bleeding Out waaay back when I finished that story. Finished a month or so ago for a pal on Tumblr.

It isn’t until after a shouting match in a bar downtown that Tyler realizes that he’s become dependent on Jamie Benn. He storms out onto the sidewalk, hails a cab and lets himself into his big, empty house just fine on his own then stands in the foyer, feeling lost.

He’s upset and a little drunk and he doesn’t want to be alone, but he has no idea who to call. Usually he would call Jamie, but that’s obviously out. Jordie too. He could call one of his other teammates, but the Stars are Jamie’s team. Tyler doesn’t doubt that Kevin or Brendan or whoever would come over if he called, but Tyler would feel like a jerk for asking them to divide their loyalties. He has buddies in Dallas outside the team, but he doesn’t trust himself not to accidentally out Jamie in the process of whining, so he can’t do that either.

In a city he loves surrounded by people he cares about, somehow he’s alone.

“Marshall?” he calls pathetically, kicking his shoes off and wandering further into the house. “Cash?”

He flops down onto the couch miserably, more grateful than he wants to admit when he hears the doggie door swing shut and the familiar clack of claws on hardwood. Marshall hops up next to him, licking his cheek a couple times before curling against his side with a contented huff. Cash trails after him on his little puppy legs, taking three tries to successfully hop up onto the couch. Tyler pulls him up to rest on his chest, kissing his dogs’ heads in turn.

“At least you guys love me, eh?” he whines. Marshall drools on his shoulder in response, which is as good of an answer as he’s going to get.

Tyler doesn’t mean to fall asleep. He means to drink a glass of water and take off his tight jeans and charge his phone before going to bed, but none of those things end up happening. Instead he dozes off sharing a pillow with Cash, one arm trapped under Marshall’s neck and belt buckle digging into his stomach.

He’s not sure how long he sleeps like that before he’s woken by Marshall stepping on his chest as he hops off the couch. It’s dark and Tyler blinks in confusion, not sure what is going on until he hears the front door open down the hall.

Tyler’s heart does something complicated in his chest.

Fresh hurt rubs him raw inside, but Tyler feels hopelessly grateful when Jamie wanders into the room, Marshall wagging happily after him. He’s upset, but he’s still glad that Jamie chose to come home at the end of the night. Honestly, he’s not sure he’ll ever stop feeling that way.

“Didn’t think I would be seeing you again tonight,” he greets, voice sleep-heavy and guarded. Jamie flinches visibly in the low light, from the words or the surprise of finding Tyler awake, Tyler’s not sure. He looks wobbly on his feet, a messy fetlock of hair flopping over his forehead, and Tyler doesn’t think he needs to ask how he entertained himself since their fight.

Jamie sighs and collapses onto the couch next to Tyler, tipping his head back to rest on the top of the couch.

“I tried to call you,” he says after a moment, sounding as tired as Tyler feels.

“Phone’s dead,” Tyler admits.

Jamie nods, and they lapse into silence. Marshall hops onto the couch between them, curling up with his head on Jamie’s thigh. Tyler refuses to feel slighted by it, hugging Cash a little tighter. They sit like that for a long time, Jamie’s big hand rubbing gently over Marshall’s head and ears, familiar and affectionate in a way that makes Tyler’s stomach twist.

He doesn’t know how to deal with looking at Jamie and feeling wretched. Everything Tyler loves best about his life in Dallas is wrapped up in Jamie Benn: looking at him and feeling hurt and alone is almost worse than the feelings themselves. Tyler finds himself irrationally angry that Jamie let him become so dependant on him. It doesn’t seem fair when it’s so obviously not reciprocal.

“I can go to Jordie’s if you want,” Jamie says when the silence stretches on too long. His voice is flat and his consonants bleed together a little. It’s just pathetic enough that Tyler doesn’t have the heart to remind him that Jordie’s place is still technically his own.

Instead, Tyler stays silent, considering.

Part of him wants to tell Jamie to go. It’s a cowardly part, he’s pretty sure. Sometimes Jamie terrifies him. The whole miserable evening just serves as a reminder that Tyler came into their relationship already in love, and Jamie didn’t. The balance between them has never been even, and if it tips, Tyler’s going to be the one who gets crushed. It would be safer to stop now, try to salvage a friendship before they ruin things for good.

Even as he thinks about asking Jamie to go, Tyler knows he’s not going to do it. He’s always been a guy who follows his heart instead of his head, and what his heart wants is really very simple.

“Stay,” he finally says. “If you want.”

Clumsy fingers brush against his wrist in response, obviously unsure. Tyler’s heart skips a beat, and it’s so pathetic it makes him angry at himself and Jamie both.

“I don’t know why you would, though,” he adds before he can stop himself. Jamie’s hand freezes on his arm.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t know why you would want to be here if you think so little of me,” Tyler says, looking away the second the words are out of his mouth. He‘s in it at this point, so he takes a deep breath and steels himself. “Why bother if I’m just going to wander off and fuck some townies first chance I get?”

Jamie’s hand leaves his arm, and Tyler swallows hard.

The worst part is Tyler knows exactly why Jamie would think he might. The whole world knows why. Every stupid, destructive thing he did while growing up is all laid out for Jamie to see, and he can’t even deny most of it. It not like he never fucked around on his girlfriends before -- the fact that he even attempted to date anyone while his life was such a mess was a mistake, no doubt -- so he can’t even pretend he’s above that.

It’s just... he thought Jamie knew how much Dallas changed him, how fundamentally different Jamie was than anyone who came before him. He thought Jamie knew that Tyler might still be a work-in-progress, but that he always tried to do right by the people he loved.

“Christ, Tyler,” Jamie curses tiredly. Tyler barely has a second to register Marshall vacating the space between them before both of Jamie’s big, rough hands are on his face. He makes Tyler look at him, makes him see how tired and drunk and miserable he looks, and despite everything, Tyler hates it. “I don’t believe that. Is that what you think?”

Tyler swallows, turning his face into Jamie’s palm slightly.

“Fuck,” Jamie says roughly. “No. That’s not... that’s not what I meant.”

Jamie leans forward and rests his forehead against Tyler’s, thumb still sweeping along the ridge of his jaw. His hair tickles Tyler’s cheek and he smells like cheap beer, but Tyler doesn’t care. The anger drains out of him, leaving him with nothing but the vulnerable feeling underneath. Tyler nudges his nose up and tangles his hands in Jamie’s shirt collar, accidentally dislodging Cash in the process. The puppy yawns and licks Tylers elbow before toddling off in the direction of his water bowl.

“I wouldn’t,” Tyler murmurs, holding on. He has to believe that about himself, has to believe he’s not so hopeless. “I wouldn’t even want to.”

Jamie nods, thumb stroking Tyler’s neck thoughtlessly.

“I know,” he says, eyes closing. Even with all the evidence to the contrary, he sounds certain. “I do know that.”

“Then why...?” Tyler asks, hating how small and lost his voice sounds.

Jamie pulls away, and Tyler almost chokes on a surge of panic before Jamie crawls on top him, collapsing onto his side half on top of Tyler and half sandwiched between Tyler and the armrest of the sectional. His sudden weight on Tyler’s chest is both startling and comforting in a bone-deep kind of way. Without thinking about it, Tyler strokes Jamie’s hair back comfortingly, swallowing and realizing it wasn’t fair of him to assume he was the only one hurt by all of this. Jamie had never been needy like this with him before; that’s usually Tyler’s job.

They lie like that for long enough that Tyler starts to wonder if Jamie passed out before he feels him sigh deeply.

“I know you don’t mean anything by it. I know the flirting is just who you are, but it just makes me _crazy_ ,” Jamie says, slurring noticeably now.

Tyler stiffens, waiting for the ax to fall, but Jamie just wraps his arm around him tighter.

“I know it doesn’t mean anything, and it shouldn’t bother me,” Jamie murmurs, rubbing his nose and cheek against Tyler’s chest desperately. Tyler tightens his fingers in his hair a little, trying to calm him down. “Except I can’t tell them you’re mine and they can’t fucking have you. I can’t even put my arm around you. They all just get to look at you smiling at them and think they have a chance, and I fucking hate it.”

Tyler swallows roughly, hugging Jamie harder and dropping his face into his hair.

He had no idea that was what was bothering Jamie. It’s hardly news that Jamie has a possessive streak -- Tyler knew that from day one -- but Tyler hadn’t realized something as mundane as chatting with a bartender would get to him. Then again, he should have realized that the secrecy would hurt Jamie, force him to watch Tyler smile and chat in a way he knew was casual but the people he was smiling at and chatting to did not. He should have realized.

“Okay, two things,” Tyler murmurs into Jamie’s hair. “One, I’ll try harder not the give people the wrong idea if you try harder to trust me to take care of it if they do.”

Jamie hums, somehow both agreeable and annoyed at the thought.

“Secondly, if you ever feel like you need to tell someone... I mean, I’m not saying it’s a great idea to go spreading it around or whatever, but I wouldn’t mind. We could deal with it.”

Jamie stills against him, and the silence that follows is loaded. Tyler swallows nervously, clinging to Jamie’s weight on top of him.

“I’m not saying we have to-” Before Tyler can finish that thought, Jamie’s mouth his covering his own. The kiss is sloppy and hard and kind of a mess, really, but Tyler finds it impossible to care. Tangling his hands in Jamie’s hair, he pours all of his sadness and frustration and longing into the kiss, whining pathetically when Jamie pulls away.

“God, I love you,” Jamie moans into his neck, pressing a sucking kiss against his pulse-point. “Can’t believe you’re mine.”

Tyler chokes on his spit a little, too stunned to do anything more than cling to Jamie as he lavishes drunk, messy kisses against Tyler’s face. It’s not until Jamie is pressing sweet little kisses against the corners of Tyler’s eyes that he seems to notice that Tyler’s gone still. He leans back, eyebrows furrowed, and Tyler looks away, hoping his eyes aren’t as bright as they feel.

“Uh,” Jamie says eloquently, suddenly incredibly awkward. “Should I not have said that?”

“No,” Tyler chokes out. “No, that’s not-”

Jamie quickly rolls onto his side. Even in the low light Tyler can see that his face has gone red.

“Shit, I’m really fucking this up, aren’t I?” he says mostly to himself. “I know you’re not... you don’t have to...”

“What? No,” Tyler responds, confused.

“We haven’t been together that long, it’s just that I... I mean, it’s okay if it’s not like that for you-”

“Jamie!”

Jamie’s jaw clicks shut, staring at Tyler with huge, scared brown eyes. Unable to bear that look, Tyler burrows against his chest, pressing their foreheads together again and clinging to Jamie like a limpet. His dignity is hardly a concern compared to Jamie’s big, sad doe eyes, as it turns out.

“It’s like that for me,” he promises, rubbing his palm along Jamie’s sternum. “Hell, it’s always been like that for me.”

Jamie’s eyebrows knit together then jump a little as he processes that information. Tyler just holds his gaze, suddenly not scared. Not of himself, not of his feelings, not of any of it.

Jamie _loves_ him.

“Oh,” Jamie finally says.

Tyler smiles widely, kissing his chin like an idiot.

“Yeah, _oh_. You just surprised me a bit.”

Jamie snorts, ducking to steal a quick kiss before their goofy grins ruin it.

“You can’t be that surprised,” he laughs against Tyler’s mouth. “I’m so fucking gone on you it’s ridiculous. Everyone knows.”

Tyler beams, bumping their heads together affectionately.

“Good,” he says. “I want people to know you’re mine too.”

Jamie smiles sweetly back at him eyelids drooping a little. There’s suddenly a bone-deep contentedness to him that Tyler’s never seen before. He doubts he would recognize it if he didn’t feel the exact same way. The alcohol and exhaustion seem to be getting to him now too, though, because he blinks sleepily a couple times, seemingly having a hard time keeping his eyes open now that the awkwardness and adrenaline have passed.

Tyler knows what he _should_ do. He should rouse Jamie off the couch, make them both drink some water, help Jamie into his sleep clothes then usher him off to bed. He should be the adult here.

But Jamie loves him, and part of Tyler is irrationally afraid that if they move from their little cocoon on the couch, this whole night will have been a vivid illusion. He’ll still be the miserable, lonely mess he was a few hours ago.

So instead of doing what he should do, Tyler pulls the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wraps it around both of them. When Jamie tightens his grip, Tyler nuzzles into his neck, sighing happily and putting off the rest of the world until tomorrow.

“Love you,” he whispers against Jamie’s throat, and the blissful hum he gets in response is more than worth whatever comes next.


	10. Benn/Seguin, it's a wonderful life tyler seguin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a piece of a longer fic I started years ago. I may revisit it someday, but until then...

Tyler knows he’s shaking in the visitor’s locker room before the game, but being back in Dallas without the Stars feels wrong down to his bones. He can feel Patrice’s concerned gaze on him, so he forces a smile and clenches his hands to keep them still. How could he possibly explain the wrongness of being here in black and gold? How could be admit that in a moment of frustration he wished away the best thing that ever happened to him? Patrice is one of the most understanding people Tyler knows, but even he couldn’t understand this.

Tyler follows Marchy into the tunnel for warm-ups, not allowed too close to either the front or the back of the procession. The AAC feel so familiar when he steps out onto the ice he feels his breath catch. He’s been back with Bruins for a couple weeks, and being here now feels like coming home after the worst road trip of his life.

Glancing across the ice and seeing his team on the other side is like a punch in the gut. Fids and Goose are stretching near the blue line, chatting amicably, and Tyler wants to skate up and plop himself down right between them, grumpy old man chirping be damned. Kari is going through his routine on the over side of the face-off circles, and Jamie…

Jamie.

Tyler knows he’s stopped skating to stare, but he can’t help it. Jamie looks different. His hair is longer, curling just above his shoulders at the ends, and his expression is closed-off and serious in a way Tyler hardly recognizes. His Jamie can be serious, sure, but it’s a passionate serious, driven, focused… nothing like the blank, joyless look on his face now. He doesn’t juggle the puck or shove his teammates playfully like he always did with Tyler, just takes a few slow laps and settles down to stretch.

Tyler is moving towards him before he can think about.

“Segs?” he hears Marchy ask, but it feels distant, surreal. He ignores it.

He comes to a stop on the other side of the center ice from Jamie, dropping into a stretch thoughtlessly. There’s so much he wants to say — so many things in the past couple weeks he would have given anything to say to his Jamie — but he has a hard time putting any of it into words now that Jamie is scant few feet away. How do you explain to someone who doesn’t remember you that you miss them horribly? That you’re sorry for things that didn’t even happen in this life?

“Uh, hey,” he finally goes with.

Jamie startles visibly, glancing over from where he’s stretching his hamstring. He looks like he’s not sure Tyler is actually talking to him, dark eyes darting around curiously.

“Hey,” he replies after a beat.

Tyler meets his gaze, and it’s a mistake. It’s been a long time, he realizes, since Jamie Benn looked at him like he didn’t matter. None of the fondness or frustration or trust Tyler’s grown accustomed to shows in his brown eyes now. He looks guarded, shy in a way Tyler worked so hard to eradicate those first few months after the trade, and Tyler feels a strong sense of loss now.

Clearing his throat, Tyler tries to will away the panic clawing at his chest. Jamie doesn’t know him here, doesn’t care about him, can’t help him get home to the world where they fit together. For some reason part of him believed everything would be alright if he could find Jamie, that his life would just slot back into place like it did the first time they found each other. It’s nonsensical, but he’s never been particularly rational about Jamie.

The worst part is Tyler is pretty sure he would stay with this Bruins team he doesn’t fit on and lose every game for the rest of his career if it just meant Jamie would smile at him like he used to. It’s a terrifying thought.

“We, uh,” he chokes out. “We met at the All Star Game a few years ago. Do you remember?”

The confused look on Jamie’s face evens out a little, falling into his bland small talk expression. Tyler wants to cry.

“Oh yeah. That was a good time, eh?” he says, switching legs. His hair flops in front of his face when he looks down, and Tyler can’t make fun of him for it, can push it out of the way, can’t joke with him or make him laugh. He can’t do anything he wants to do because he made one stupid wish in a moment of weakness and the universe apparently wasn’t done fucking him sideways for every mistake he makes.

“The best,” Tyler replies miserably.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to drop by and say hello/leave a prompt/read the stuff too silly to make it over here at my [Tumblr](http://dastardlywords.tumblr.com/). :)


End file.
